There’s a bear in the Truro woods. br People have seen it - three or four, br or two, or one. I think br of the thickness of the serious woods br around the dark bowls of the Truro ponds; br I think of the blueberry fields, the blackberry tangles, br the cranberry bogs. And the sky br with its new moon, its familiar star-trails, br burns down like a brand-new heaver, br while everywhere I look on the scratchy hillsides br shadows seem to grow shoulders. Surely br a beast might be clever, be lucky, move quietly br through the woods for years, learning to stay away br from roads and houses. Common sense mutters: br it can’t be true, it must be somebody’s br runaway dog.